


Fight Me

by black_kite



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Cussing, F/M, Minor Violence, NSFW later on, Reader-Insert, What Was I Thinking?, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6338590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_kite/pseuds/black_kite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a taste of an odd sort of relationship. I don't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight Me

**Author's Note:**

> First published fic so a little critique would really be nice.

You were used to Rick talking shit. It was a thing between the two of you; try and see who could touch a raw nerve and who would throw the first punch. You enjoyed it until that rare occasion where his or your silver tongue would get each other in too deep. His rough hands always seemed to be aching to wrap around your throat or wandering even while you fought. While punches were being thrown, spindly fingers would grip tightly, cut-off groans would blend between pain and pleasure. Both of you would be bruised and cut up, already layered in scars and blotches of blues, purples, and greens. It was mutually assured destruction and neither of you could ever get enough. 

It started when you were invited into the Smith house to tutor Morty. He had the hardest time keeping up with the assignments and his overzealous grandpa. With his storys about the stuff he had done and seen, you couldn’t help but want to protect him. Morty quickly became like a little brother to you even if he was already thoroughly fucked. Meeting Rick was next on the list even though Morty insisted that you avoid the mad scientist, desperately. You didn’t get what the big deal was; you thought that you hadhandled the elder accordingly. Needless to say, you two got to know each other way too well.

Tonight, you were over to help Morty with an English assignment. You thought it best to hang out in the living room so the both of you sat across from each other, using the coffee table to lay everything out in a white haze of frustration. Beth had brought out some cookies while passing through on her way back to her room, offering you a sympathetic smile and a few words of encouragement for her son. Some time later, Rick had popped up from the garage for a break, as well as to make snide little commentary about school and your methods. It seemed that it was one of those days where he was trying to take everything out on you. Both of you were going all out, making the most rude, vulgar comments. You were at a draw until he had made some insignificant comment about your body and that had been the last straw. You stood quickly, shuffling over from the floor to the couch. Blocking his view from the television. All while smiling, you asked, "Pardon?"

"You h-heard me. You need to chill- to ease up on those snacks," he snarked. "You seem to be gaining some- a bit around those hips."

"R-rick! Stop it..." Morty looked terrified, waiting to see how you would respond. 

Rick’s eyes gleamed in anticipation. Slowly, he leaned forward while letting his breath linger at said hips and grabbing one of those very cookies, watching you as he took a bite, with a smirk. Your smile grew as you drew back your fist. Morty yelped as it collided with Rick’s cheek and you were quickly tackled to the floor. A hand in your hair was quickly subduing you by arching your neck painfully until tears started to prick your eyes. You groaned as your nails bit into his wrist before moving them to scrape angrily up to his shoulders. A hiss escaped the scientist. Morty’s yelling became muffled by the pulsing rush in your ears. It seemed both of you couldn’t hear anything beyond the crackling hum of energy. The carpet scratched against you skin where your shirt had risen, burning your sensitive flesh while you struggled.

"What the hell is going on in here?!" Jerry screeched, walking in on a panicking Morty and Rick straddling you. Rick’s hand yanked your hair back once more before untangling it. You grunted in annoyance at Jerry’s presence and sat up to scratch harder at his throat before pushing Rick off of you none too gently. 

"It’s nothing. I punched him in the face. We’re fine." You smiled sweetly, " He wanted to see how hard I could hit and I took a cheap shot." You continued while moving to stand and pull your shirt down from where it had risen. You could feel the rug burn on your back uncomfortable tingling against your shirt.

"Well... You shouldn’t be doing that in the house… or at all," Jerry scolded then glared at Rick as he spoke,"It’s innapropiate. And you have a bruise on your face, Rick."

"Shut the hell up, Jerry. Of course she throws a much better punch than you ever could. Hell, even Morty hits harder than you!"Rick snorted, straightening his lab coat. 

You turned your face away and snickered as you fixed your hair. You looked to see Morty’s blushing face.  
“You alright there, Morty? “ you whispered while the older males bickered. He glanced towards you before nodding quickly. “You sure?”  
“Yeah, I-I’m fine!” He nodded harder.  
“If you’re sure. Can you help me out then?”you questioned while glancing between the bickering duo. You heard something about your age and rolled your eyes before turning back to the short brunette. He followed you up the stairs into the small bathroom shared between Rick, Summer, and himself. You dug through the bottom before pulling out a jar of cotton balls and some cleaning alcohol. “There is no telling what all has been on that floor. No offense.”  
“None taken.” Morty squeaked as you proceeded to lift the back of your shirt. He quickly took the fluff and soaked it to apply to the scrapes before speaking. “W-why do you and Rick fight like that? He’s hardly ever that rough to girls.”  
You laugh then hiss when Morty rubs over the irritated flesh. “We have a lot in common. He’s an asshole, I’m an asshole. I may not be smart, but I manage to sometimes keep him on his toes. We just get along.”

The teen stutters,“T-that’s getting along?” 

“Yup.”


End file.
